


What We Do

by Foophile



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Finale, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 09:38:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3442343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foophile/pseuds/Foophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie and Present!Ichabod hug it out once again. Season 2 Finale drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Do

The thrill of their victory lasted until they left the building. 

Actually to Abbie it lasted even less than that because Crane lagged as they exited the Town Hall, looking back over his shoulder like he could catch a glimpse of whatever specter they'd left behind. Jenny and Frank were already at the truck before they noticed that Abbie was watching Crane, waiting. 

When Crane finally came around, Abbie flipped down the tailgate of Jenny's truck and scooted onto the truck bed with a backward hop. She saw Crane pause, glance in askance at Frank and Jenny who looked back at him from the cab, but then he joined her with an easy jump. Abbie closed the gate and the truck started with a rumble. 

A small alloy trunk was drilled onto the frame and was just wide enough for them both to sit comfortably. It reminded Abbie of the bench seats in the carriage, the long uncomfortable ride that never happened during the two days that were reversed. She didn't know how she was going to explain everything she'd experienced but that was for later. Crane sat heavily beside her, his shoulders hunched and face drawn. 

She caught Jenny's eye through the cab window and gave her sister a nod. Jenny was worried and she wasn't the only one. She didn't have to watch Crane kill his wife. His tear streaked face was like a brand in her memory.

"Brace yourself," Abbie murmured to Crane as Jenny pulled away, unaware of what she'd said until Crane gave her a listless nod and grabbed hold of the bed side. The mirror image nearly made Abbie blurt out everything, how exhilarated and terrified and grateful she was to Crane for having enough faith in her to doubt what he thought to be true. But she bit her lips shut. Later. She might tell him all of it later. 

The truck sped through the dawn kissed deserted streets of Sleepy Hollow and Abbie and Crane sat side by side, silent. Abbie couldn't help but look around and think of the past she'd seen. How the town had changed, even the air.

She thought of Ichabod when he'd first awakened. Shell shocked, overwhelmed with the buildings and people and how there was something everywhere. Abbie didn't understand when Ichabod would mention off-hand how much more there was in this world but now she did. There were so few places that were devoid of human touch, untainted. 

The truck went around a tight corner and Abbie slid into Ichabod's side. She glanced up at him just as he looked down at her and Abbie shot him a small grin. He returned it but his sad eyes made her ache in sympathy. Once again Abbie couldn't imagine everything he'd lost, just in one night. 

Less than a year ago, he'd been a highly respected, battle proved yet hard ridden Captain helping to build a fledgeling nation. Even if a few of his superiors rebuffed him for his past, he had the ear of the most influential men in America. A wife who was as dedicated to the war effort as he and, unbeknownst to him, a child on the way. 

All gone in one battle.

All gone and Ichabod thrust into a time of strange people and things. Only to find and lose it again. 

No, Abbie couldn't begin to understand, but now that she'd seen just a little bit of his world maybe they could help each other move on. 

"You didn't mention why Franklin was so partial to baths, air or otherwise," Abbie said to him over the growl of the engine.

Ichabod blinked down at her. 

"The French colognes did him no favors," she said with a smirk.

Abbie wrinkled her nose at the memory of Benjamin Franklin's overpowering scent. Not just one, like an Axe body spray dependent frat boy, but layers upon layers of unsubtle musk, as if the man went swimming in a pool within a French boudoir.

Abbie watched him as he blinked again and then, as if he couldn't help it, he chuckled. He immediately sobered again and Abbie could practically see the emotions cross his face. Confusion, intrigue, then guilt, remorse. Abbie knew Ichabod would only heap Katrina's death onto the heaving piles of guilt that slumped his shoulders now. He'd hold on to it for years, long enough maybe to fixate just as Katrina did for centuries in purgatory, and it would ruin him as it did his wife. 

Guilt was a poison Abbie knew only too well. She used to think there was nothing she could do to mend the relationship between she and Jenny. And then a man came out of the past and reminded her that there was always another way.

It just took time and faith.

They were nearly to the cabin and Abbie was fairly certain that Ichabod would probably ask to be left alone. He would wallow, the way he did when they first returned from Purgatory and Katrina was taken by the Horseman. He and his stiff British upper lip would start to build a slipshod wall that would crumble as soon as the next crisis came around. Probably at the most inopportune time. His guilt might jeopardize their mission, their bond, if allowed to fester and while it would be a daunting task in the future, Abbie knew she could hinder its course now if she was just willing to take a chance.

As expected, Jenny took the next turn too hard and Abbie slid once more into Ichabod's side. This time she used the momentum to wrap an arm around his back, pressing her cheek into the wool of his jacket in a slightly awkward side hug. She felt him stiffen, like the Ichabod of the past but not the one of the future, and nearly lost hope. Then after a beat he pulled his trapped arm from under her and wrapped it around her shoulder, tucking her in, resting his head on her hair. 

Abbie felt his thin frame shudder against her, sighing as if he just couldn't keep it in anymore, and she flung her other arm around his front and hugged him tight. Kept him safe and present. The world sped past them as they embraced.

As they neared the familiar path to the cabin and slowed, Ichabod sniffled and pulled away slightly. Abbie looked up at him and grimaced at his red rimmed eyes, the tears he hastily wiped away. It would be a long journey for Ichabod but Abbie didn't know if there was anyone else strong enough to brave it.

"'Hugging it out' Leftenant?" He croaked, clearing his throat.

Abbie grinned, shaking her head. Who knew where Crane could have heard that term? If only he was aware of much he'd changed. She would tell him but he wouldn't believe her. Again.

God, she was glad to be back.

She wiped a wayward tear from his cheek and took one of his long hands between both of her own. The truck was rocking them along rough terrain but Abbie knew that Ichabod would keep her from falling.

She smiled up at him. "It's what we do."

 

END


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